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<title>I Don't Fit In Your Shoes (Yet I'm Still Wearing Them) by LSims</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23760535">I Don't Fit In Your Shoes (Yet I'm Still Wearing Them)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSims/pseuds/LSims'>LSims</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bandstand - Oberacker/Oberacker &amp; Taylor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen, Light Angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:28:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>911</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23760535</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSims/pseuds/LSims</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Donny receives a visit from Michael before his first real date with Julia.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Donny Novitski &amp; Michael Trojan, Donny Novitski/Julia Trojan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Don't Fit In Your Shoes (Yet I'm Still Wearing Them)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Donny had never been on a real date. Sure, the girls in high school had thrown themselves at him, but he’d brushed them off, mind much too occupied with piano chords and dead mothers and absent, good for nothing fathers. </p>
<p>Yes, there’d been a couple of meetings for drinks, coffee houses, and run-down bars. But nothing real.</p>
<p>And, once he enlisted, well, girls weren’t exactly above fighting for your life, even for the horniest of guys. True, there <em>had </em>been a girl, at boot camp. Dark-haired, maybe, definitely nameless, and gone from his bunk before the sun rose. </p>
<p>None of them were fancy dinners and too stiff suits, pearls and flowing dresses. Well, none until now, at least. </p>
<p>Donny stood in front of the mirror, smoothing out non-existent creases in his jacket and playing phantom keys against his leg with the other hand. None of those feelings had been real, either. Until Julia.</p>
<p>So why did he feel so damn awful about it? Oh, wait, he knew, he just didn’t want to say it out loud. </p>
<p>He still couldn’t believe he’d asked her. It was so sudden, so flustered. They were walking back to their hotel after watching that <em>god awful </em>movie.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Do you wanna go to Sardi’s, Jules? Just you and me?”  </em>
</p>
<p>He’d whispered it just so she could hear. </p>
<p>Widened eyes, parted lips, a tiny nod. <em> “I—um, sure! Friday night?” </em></p>
<p>
  <em>“Yeah, uh, that works!”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Great! I um, guess it’s a date then, Donny.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Yeah, guess it is.” </em>
</p>
<p><em>She’s always wanted to go to Sardi’s</em>. He thinks. <em> She wanted to go with Michael. </em></p>
<p>She <em>should </em>be going with Michael. Donny should have never been the one donning the suit and tie. He should have never been put in this position. The band should have never even been called <em> Donny Nova</em>. </p>
<p><em>The Michael Trojan Band </em>should be the name up on the marquee. Or something better. He’d definitely keep the last name, though. Think it was just hysterical to watch people get flustered over it. He should have led the band, been the one who bobby-sockers swooned over. He would have gotten them all to New York the proper way. He probably would’ve been smart enough to read the fine print on that <em>damned </em>contract. </p>
<p><em>Michael </em>should be the one leading the tour right now, taking Julia out to dinner. And yet, he wasn’t. Because of Donny.</p>
<p>He lets out a strained smile and looks up at the ceiling with a short laugh. “Bet this wasn’t how you pictured I’d ‘check-in on’ Julia, was it Rubber?” </p>
<p>“No, and leaving her hanging just ‘cause you’re racked with guilt isn’t either, Nova.”</p>
<p>Donny’s lucky he doesn’t have a gun because he would’ve fired it. He looks wide-eyed at the direction of the voice. </p>
<p><em>Michael</em>.</p>
<p>Except it’s not, not really. He’s too pale, too translucent, too, well, <em> dead </em>to be sitting there at the edge of Donny’s bed. Yet his smirk is still the same one Michael always wore, as is the exasperated look in Donny’s direction.</p>
<p>He stares at him, mouth agape. “I-I—how? <em> Why </em>?”</p>
<p>“You’re in desperate need of some advice, Novitski, and what kind of wingman am I to not give you some? <em> Especially </em>because it’s my wife, and I know her best.”</p>
<p>“I—I’m <em> sorry </em>.” </p>
<p>It’s the only thing Donny can say, the phrase that’s bounced around his head for years. It’s the only thing he <em>can </em>say to Michael. “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>The—<em> Michael </em>ignores it. “So, it’s Jules' first time, so she’s gonna want to do more looking than eating. And, as I’m sure you know, she needs that last meal of the day, so you’re gonna have to remind her—”</p>
<p>“You should be taking her, right now. You’re already doing a better job than I ever could.”</p>
<p>Michael sighs. “Don’t be soft with me, Donny. <em> You’re </em>the one who’s taking her.”</p>
<p>“But it should be.”</p>
<p>“It’s not your fault, Novitski. You accidentally dropped the grenade.”</p>
<p>“I still dropped it. And even if it <em> wasn’t </em>my fault, I still feel like I’m replacing you.” </p>
<p>“Then why are you wearing my shoes?”</p>
<p>Donny looked up at Michael. “W-what?”</p>
<p>“Why are you wearing my shoes, Nova? If you’re so convinced you don’t belong in them then why are they on your smelly ass feet?”</p>
<p>“I—well, first of all, my feet <em> don’t </em>smell.”</p>
<p>“The bunks at boot camp would beg to disagree, but go on.”</p>
<p>Donny rolled his eyes. “I—” he paused in realization. “I love her, Michael.” </p>
<p>“I know, and so do I, but Donny,”</p>
<p>He looked at Michael, meeting his eyes.</p>
<p>“You’re <em>not </em>replacing me. How can you be, if what <em> I </em> feel for Julia is different than what <em>you </em>feel for her? Look, Nova, I’ll admit, having you fall for my wife wasn’t exactly my plan for if I died, but neither was letting her be alone with her grief. You need each other Donny, I can see it. If you don’t want to do it for you, then, at least for Jules, okay? It’s the least you can do for her <em> and </em>me.”</p>
<p>Donny nodded. “Okay.”</p>
<p>After a moment, he stood up and smiled. “It’s good to see you, Rubber.”</p>
<p>“Right back at you, Nova.</p>
<p>“Oh, and, by the way, I would’ve signed that contract.”</p>
<p>Donny smiled once more. “I’m gonna make her happy, Michael, I promise.”</p>
<p>“Good, and if you break it, I <em> will </em> come back and haunt you.” </p>
<p>Donny laughed. “I expect nothing less.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've decided to alternate between fluff and angst.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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